The Curse of Modern Technology
by HB's Favourite
Summary: The staff of Cackle's Academy have been issued with mobile phones.  What could possibly go wrong?
1. Chapter 1

_**Hi all **_

_**Here's another comedy short – needed yet another break from the big BT, Chapter 12 of which will be with you soon. **_

_**This one's set in the present, and will be comprised of two chapters. **_

_**Can I just thank NCD for giving me her kind permission to borrow "Magilec" – and for anyone who is behind with her amazing story, Appearances Can Be Deceptive (Rated M) please CATCH UP NOW! To anyone lucky enough to have that particular delight still to come, may I suggest you START READING IT!**_

_**Ithankyou. **_

_**HBF**_

**The Curse of Modern Technology **

**1**

'That's my final word on the matter, Constance,' Amelia sighed, passing the compact cardboard package to her deputy. 'All staff members have been issued with one. What with Miss Drill being here on a permanent basis and Miss Lamplighter working part time – not to mention Frank and Maria – we really do need to step up communication between the staff in case of emergency.'

Constance sneered down at the box in her hand as though it contained something toxic. She didn't know what "Nokia" meant, or why the picture on the front was that of a young woman beaming as she gambolled along a seafront, mobile phone clamped to her ear; but she _did _know that whilst Miss Cackle advocated preserving the best of the old whilst welcoming the best of the new, this was certainly not _her_ idea of the latter.

'And what am I supposed to do with it?' she sniffed.

'Well, I don't know,' Amelia sounded hesitant. 'Charge it up, I suppose.'

'"_Charge it up?"_' Constance spat. 'And how on earth do I do that without electricity?'

'Mr Hallow has had some Magilec installed on a temporary basis in the staffroom. In the meantime, I've set some of the fifth years an assignment to formulate a mobile-phone-charging spell.' The headmistress beamed at her own resourcefulness.

'My, you really have thought of everything this time, haven't you?' said Constance scathingly, as she made for the door. 'Be warned, Miss Cackle – as soon as the girls get wind of this, they'll be bringing all sorts of devices into class, and everything we've done to discourage them from using such contraptions will go to pot.'

The door slammed behind the deputy's retreating back.

Amelia flopped back in her seat, fumbling idly in her top drawer for her own mobile. She'd reached Level twelve of Tetris, and she wasn't stopping for anybody...

**x**

'This will all end in tears,' Constance grumbled, cursing under her breath as the SIM card made a bid for freedom from her fingertips. 'For goodness sake! How on earth is anybody supposed to use something so fiddly? And have you seen the size of the buttons?'

'Let me have a look,' Imogen kept her tone deliberately calm as she slid the SIM perfectly into place, connected the battery, replaced the back cover and plugged the phone into the socket. 'There,' she smiled, settling it on the windowsill next to Davina's, which was already sporting a silver cover emblazoned with a diamante bat motif. 'You'll find you can't live without it once you've had it a few days. I suppose I'd better take your number. It'll be on the side of the box.'

Constance rolled her eyes, fishing the flattened packaging from the wastepaper basket and handing it to the gym mistress, who proceeded to punch the numbers into her directory with well -practiced speed.

'I think it's all rather fun,' mused Davina, flicking through the dull diagrams in the manual. 'You can get onto the Internet and everything! I'll be able to keep in touch with my friends in Mongolia.'

'All the time incurring extortionate charges for the privilege,' protested Constance. 'There are some things, Miss Bat, which should be left in the non-magical world, and this is most certainly one of them.'

'Come _on_, Miss Hardbroom,' Imogen coaxed. 'The whole point is to open up new lines of communication when we need them most. The rest of us can't just appear out of nowhere at the drop of a hat, and we don't all have supersonic hearing that kicks in at the slightest hint of trouble.'

'Which is why, Miss Drill, I am a witch and you are not! It wouldn't do if we were all the same, now, would it?'

_No, Miss Hardbroom_, thought Imogen with a sigh, watching Constance across the table and noticing that she looked very pleased with her retort. _How awful it would be if we were all as neophobic as you_...

**x**

'Did you know,' Fenella nudged Griselda as they sat down to lunch. 'The teachers have got new mobiles.'

'No way!'

'Yes way – even HB.' They peered through the crowd of dining students to the top table, where Miss Hardbroom was sitting slightly apart from the other members of staff, taking her time over a plate of green beans.

'We've _got_ to get hold of her number!' The mischievous possibilities were almost too much for Griselda to bear.

'Like that's gonna happen! She'll keep the thing under lock, key and binding spell – if she even uses it at all, that is.'

Griselda didn't seem to hear. She was already reaching into her satchel as a plan formed in her mind.

'Gris! You don't honestly keep that with you all the time, do you?'

Griselda produced a fuchsia pink, clamshell phone which was apparently in silent mode.

'Course I do! I've got five spare batteries which I charge at home during the holidays. If I don't spend too much time on it, they last me the best part of a term.'

She fiddled with the settings under the table before concentrating on the screen.

'What are you doing?'

'Shh!'

'Gris – _what_ –'

'_Shut up!_ Don't draw attention to us... Just a few seconds more...' Griselda's face broke into an expression of utter glee. 'You are NOT gonna believe this.'

'_What?_'

'HB's got Bluetooth!'

Fenella's eyes sparkled as she snatched the phone from her friend, scanning the list of _Devices Found_ on the screen.

'_MillieHub - _naughty Mildred! _DP'96_ - whoever that is, _Imogen – _Miss Drill! And... _HB_. Oh my God! She actually calls herself HB! Do you reckon it's really her?'

'Shhh!' Griselda yanked the phone back, grinning widely. 'There's only one way to find out!'

**x**

'Can you see anything?'

The keyhole-shaped room came into focus as Enid squinted through one eye. She could only see so far in either direction – but she could see enough to ascertain that there was no one at the table, and no one by the urn. Unless the entire staff body was packed like sardines in the stationery cupboard, the coast was clear.

'Yep,' Enid whispered against the door. 'Looking good. Keep an eye out. I'm going in!'

In a moment, Enid had let herself into the staffroom and clicked the door shut behind her. She observed her surroundings for a moment, feeling the thrill of being somewhere totally out of bounds. She soon clocked the neat row of mobile phones snoozing on the windowsill, each connected to their own life support system. In a flash she was at the window, examining the first phone (which definitely wasn't the right one) ignoring the second (which, judging by its case, must have been Miss Bat's) and, grabbing the third, skipped expertly through the menu to the contacts list, scrolling down to "C".

'Right,' she whispered through the keyhole. 'I've got it! Who's taking it down?'

'Me,' she heard Ruby's voice on the other side of the door. 'Fire away.'

Enid read the number out before returning the phone to its resting place and bundling out of the staffroom, the excitement of danger still pounding through her veins.

'So what are we going to do with it?' asked Mildred, twirling the end of her plait around her fingers.

'I've had a few ideas,' replied Ruby, wistfully. 'Come with me, girls...'

**x**

Fortunately, the fourth year potions lesson that afternoon was a practical one, so once Miss Hardbroom had given her instructions and offered dire warnings of the consequences of failure, Griselda allowed a few minutes to pass as the class set to work, before reaching into her bag for her mobile. She ran a search for nearby devices and was delighted when _HB_ appeared on her screen again.

'This is it,' she whispered to Fenella, cautious not to let anyone within earshot hear her. 'What shall I put?'

'Err... Hi Miss?' suggested Fenella. Griselda rolled her eyes in exasperation.

'Come on, Fen – it's got to be a better effort than that. How about... Hello Foxy?'

'Yeah yeah! Do that!' Fenella could barely contain her giggles as Griselda thumbed the text into the keys.

'Send!' she whispered, in a menacing tone. The girls had to bite their lips as they hastened to mix their memory restoration potion in an effort to catch up with the rest of the class, every so often glancing at Miss Hardbroom who was marking work at her desk. Within moments, there was a muffled buzzing sound, and Miss Hardbroom looked suspicious as she tried to locate its source. Her eyes trailed to her desk to see her phone inching along the surface with every vibration. She hovered her palm over it as though it might take a chunk out of her, before picking it up and turning it over in her hand. Fenella and Griselda daren't look at each other. The next time they glanced up, Miss Hardbroom was staring intently at the screen, the colour draining out of her face.

'Are you all right, Miss?' said someone at the front of the room.

'Yes, quite.' said Miss Hardbroom, who now looked as though she were about to faint. Pulling herself together, she swept her gaze about the classroom as if to ensure nobody else had noticed her momentary lapse.

'Extreme!' whispered Fenella and Griselda in unison.

**x**

It wasn't often that Imogen managed to get the staffroom to herself in the evenings. It was rather nice, without Miss Bat singing, or Miss Hardbroom complaining, or Miss Cackle piling yet more paperwork onto her. She'd helped herself to a cheeky glass of wine from the drinks cabinet, and settled down into the armchair to text Serge.

**Message to Serge: **

_Hiya. Good day? Still on for the weekend? Me xx_

A few minutes passed, during which Imogen rifled idly through this month's edition of _Fitness_ magazine. Her phone chirruped.

**New Message from Serge:**

_Hey honey. Not a bad day. Beanpole fell into a stream and twisted an ankle. What a moron. :-/ Of course up for weekend. Can't wait. S x_

Imogen beamed in the candlelight.

The phone chirruped again. _Blimey_, she thought. _He's keen tonight_.

**New Message from Constance:** _(Oh great...)_

_Miss Drill, I am sending you a test message. Could you reply presently to let me know you have received this._

**Message to Constance:**

_Received loud and clear._

**Message to Serge:**

_Poor beanpole... How are the others? Me xx_

**New Message from Constance **

_There was no need to be sarcastic, Miss Drill. A simple "yes" would have sufficed._

Imogen huffed as she punched in her response. So much for a romantic chat with her boyfriend.

**Message to Constance:**

_Sorry, Miss Hardbroom. No sarcasm intended. I'm glad to see you've mastered the art of texting._

**New Message from Serge:**

_All well. How's the maiden aunt? ;-)_

**Message to Serge:**

_Hard work, as always. Talk to you at the weekend. Shall I pick up a Chinese en-route? Me xx_

**New Message from Constance:**

_I would hardly call it an art. Perhaps you could assist me with some of the other functions. I don't have time to read manuals._

**New message from Serge:**

_No. Just bring yourself... and maybe that frilly lingerie. You can help me remove it... :-p S x_

Imogen blushed, grinning from ear to ear.

**Message to Serge:**

_I'd like nothing more than to help you with that. See you tomorrow night, sexy... xxx_

_Sending... Constance... _

'Oh, fuck, fuck, no no no, please no!' Imogen furiously pressed "cancel", knowing all too well that resistance was futile. As the words "Message Sent" blinked mockingly on the screen, she was filled with a sickening sense of horror. Wracking her brains for the remotest solution, she slung the magazine on the table and hurtled out of the staffroom, the door banging on its hinges as she went.

**x**

_**Oh dear, Imogen, what have you done?**_

_**The concluding chapter will follow over the next few days...**_

_**Please review! **_


	2. Chapter 2

**2**

'You know, don't you,' sighed Maud, having given up any hope of changing her friends' minds, 'That when HB finds out you'll all be dead.'

'She won't find out,' said Ruby, her tongue protruding between her lips as tapped into her iPhone. 'She might be the most powerful witch we know, but I doubt her abilities stretch to tracking down the source of a random Hotmail account set up in a fake name. Anyway, it's done now.'

Maud's stomach lurched.

'Don't worry, Maud,' assured Enid, placing a hand on her friend's shoulder. 'If the shit hits the fan, we won't mention your name.'

'I should hope not!' shrilled Maud. 'So – what's the damage?'

Ruby grinned. 'Looks like it's all registered. She should start getting calls any time now.'

**x**

Imogen sprinted along the corridors, turning the corner to the potions lab at lightening speed and peering through the windowpane into the darkness.

'Damn it!' she breathed. 'Where the hell is she?'

She turned on her heel and raced for the staircase leading to the teachers' quarters. Taking the steps two at a time, she paused to catch her breath as she reached the top, her knuckles poised to rap on Constance's door. Just what she was going to say, she had no idea...

She knocked twice. Three times. No response.

'_Damn_ it!'

Placing a palm against the cool stone of the wall, Imogen forced herself to think rationally. There were two more places Constance could be: the dungeon, which Imogen was loath to go to at this time of night; or her private study, which was out of bounds to everyone except Miss Hardbroom.

Imogen plumped for the latter. OK – so entry was on pain of death; but it surely beat being ravaged by Sir Walter in the basement...

**x**

Constance enjoyed nothing more than the tranquillityof her private study. Very few of the girls knew where it was located (and those who _did_ had stumbled across it by accident and were suitably deterred from so much as _thinking_ of it again), and even Amelia was permitted to enter only if a member of the academy was in mortal peril. It was the one place the potions mistress could retreat to read, study, mark, or even just unwind, where she could rest safe in the knowledge that there was only an infinitesimal possibility of...

Her peace was shattered as the mobile phone emitted a synthesised Eurythmics ringtone which she could only assume Mr Hallow had set up for his own amusement. Constance rifled crossly through her handbag, seizing the offending item and holding it to hear ear. 'Yes?'

'Oh, er, hi,' came a young male voice. 'Can I, like, order two N-Dubz tickets for the ninth of Jan? I'll be, like, paying by Mastercard.'

Constance's brows knitted together.

'You have the wrong number. Not to mention a rather poor command of the English language.' She swiftly cut off the call.

The phone rang again. This time, another voice.

'Alraaaht? I'm calling about the N-Dubz concert. Can you do a discount for a party of ten?'

Constance glared into the middle distance.

'I don't know if this is some sort of prank, but I can assure you I am neither selling tickets of any kind, nor do I know who "N-Dubz" are!'

Constance hung up. Lo and behold...

'Er – yeah – er – can I book N-Dubz on Friday the twelfth of –'

'No! You can't!' Constance finally succumbed to her temper. 'And if I receive another call of this nature, I will see to it that "N-Dubz" are hexed into oblivion!'

Hissing and cursing under her breath, she held down a button which displayed a picture of a speaker with a line through it, and threw the phone back into her bag.

'Blasted thing!' she muttered, returning to her reading. 'The Devil's contraption indeed!'

**x**

Imogen loitered momentarily outside the study door. A plaque with Constance's name was glinting at her in the moonlight, along with another which read 'No Admittance to Students'. Contemplating that, in Constance's eyes, this probably included Imogen and the rest of the staff, she hesitated before rapping feebly against the wood. Moments later, the door flew open to reveal Constance in all her statuesque glory, giving Imogen a look that intimated she'd better have a good reason for being there.

'Constance, I'm sorry,' Imogen was still slightly out of breath as she stepped past her into the room. 'I feel so foolish – it was just that I was – talking to Serge at the same time and – it all got a bit confused and –'

The deputy scrutinised her for a moment, before clicking the door shut.

'Do _come in_, Miss Drill!' Constance's voice dripped with sarcasm. Imogen felt about an inch high. Not only had she misdirected the worst possible text to the worst possible recipient, but she had now encroached on her personal space. Any brownie points she'd accumulated from offering her technical assistance earlier were rapidly descending into minus figures...

Constance circled her desk and retook her seat behind it, her usual composure regained. Imogen held her breath for a moment, watching the deputy's face for any hint of reaction to the mishap. Detecting none, a thought struck her. What if Constance hadn't received it? What if, by some good fortune, the message had become lost in the ether? She had to be sure. If she could only get the phone from Constance under the pretence of helping her with the other functions, she might just be able to check for herself...

'I mean,' Imogen back-peddled. 'I _mean_, had I not been talking to Serge, I'd have come right away to help you with the phone. So,' she grinned, giving it the "jazz hands". 'Here I am!'

Constance eyed her with suspicion.

'Miss Drill. It is a quarter to eleven on a weeknight. I did not say my need for assistance was urgent. And who on Earth are "N-Dubz"?'

'_What?_ Oh - I think you mean Dappy and Tulisa and - '

'It was a rhetorical question, Miss Drill!' Snapped Constance.

There was a muffled buzzing sound.

Imogen instinctively clutched at her pocket, confused as to why she hadn't felt it vibrate. As she looked back to Constance, she was horrified to see the potions mistress retrieving her phone from her handbag. She stepped forward in panic.

'Oh – Miss – Constance, _please_ don't – you can't read that...' Imogen cupped her hands over her mouth, closing her eyes tightly and willing the ground to swallow her whole.

The silence was excruciating.

Imogen eventually opened her eyes, sinking her teeth into her cheek.

'It was... meant for Serge...' she offered, seeing Constance's mortified eyes boring into her.

'Evidently.' said the potions mistress, acidly. 'And this is how a respectable gym mistress addresses a male member of the community, is it?'

Imogen didn't know what to say. She felt like a naughty schoolgirl. A dreadful realisation that this would become an eternally cringe-worthy memory nestled into the corner of her mind that she'd rather forget.

**x**

Mildred, Maud, Enid, Ruby, Fenella and Griselda were seated along the front row of the Potions Lab. Each was clutching a quill and each was producing, in perfect, calligraphic handwriting, one hundred lines which read "_I must not use modern technology to the detriment of my elders and betters_". After a school-wide interrogation during assembly, in which it had been suggested that if the culprits did not hand themselves in immediately, the entire school would forego the Halloween celebrations for the next five years, the usual suspects had risen to their feet. As Miss Hardbroom eyed them with a self-satisfied smirk, she'd muttered something that no girl had ever thought they would hear from their potions mistress's lips:

'The expression, I believe girls, is "busted".'

Now, as Miss Hardbroom paced the classroom, daring any one of them to glance up from her work, there came a soft knocking at the door. She turned on her heel, walking briskly over to where she could see Mr Hallow's smiling face peering in through the window.

He greeted Miss Hardbroom quietly, nodding to the girls as he strode to the front desk and placing his briefcase on it. Mildred swung her foot sideways under the desk to collide with Enid's ankle as they both silently acknowledged the chill that emanated from Miss Hardbroom whenever a male was present. Mr Hallow thumbed a numerical code into the lock and the case sprang open. Taking out a small package, he whispered to the potions mistress.

'This is the new SIM. The previous number's obsolete, so just replace the old SIM with this one and Bob's your uncle.'

Miss Hardbroom eyed him coldly, taking the package without thanks.

'I've disabled the Bluetooth on the handset. And might I suggest, Miss Hardbroom,' his voice was barely above a whisper as the case snapped shut, 'That you take better care to keep it out of the reach of, er, irrepressible young students?' He winked, retreating towards the door as Miss Hardbroom, thwarted for a response, closed it swiftly behind him.

'I don't know what you find so amusing, girls,' her voice was deliberately light as she turned to see them all suppressing giggles. 'Rest assured, if I find anything – _anything_ – to suggest that you have communicative devices on your person other than those which have already been confiscated, I'll see to it that you all repeat your current year...'

**x**

**FIN**

Sorry this one took so long to update. I've had a week or so off writing. More fool me: I've got writers block now – haha!

Thanks for reading, and please do review.


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